Fantasy Series

Ongoing – and still going well

A Kingdom Besieged - Raymond E. Feist

A couple of months ago, I mentioned that I’d recently read At the Gates of Darkness by Raymond E. Feist.  Well, as befits a series that I enjoy quite a bit, I followed that up by reading the next installment of the long running Riftwar saga:  A Kingdom Besieged.

After a series has been going on for so long, the enemies tend to get more and more dire, and this one is no exception.  Our mortal heroes find themselves having to face enemies on an ever more cosmic and incomprehensible scale.

And yet, this series doesn’t suffer from this excess.  I think that’s mainly because Feist has a deft hand when it comes to making the enormous extremely personal and keeping the characters’ style of conflict resolution constant, irreverent and always entertaining.  That, more than any big concepts is what has made this series a steady mega-selling winner for all of its history.

This is like the perfect antidote to things like A Fire Upon the Deep, which we looked at last week.  Yes, the Vinge has a huge edge when it comes to originality. In fact, Feist re-uses concepts from every great fantasist ever, from Tolkien to Lovecraft, but even though his work is not in the least original, it is still much, much better.  Yes, I know A Fire Upon the Deep is reaching classic status, but I would argue that Feist’s long-running series deserves it just as much, if not more, than the Vinge.

Anyway, if you haven’t already done so, pick up a copy of Magician, the first book in this series.  You’ll be taken on one hell of a ride.

 

Gustavo Bondoni’s latest book is a comic fantasy novel entitled The Malakiad.  You can check out the Kindle version here and the paperback here.

 

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The Bookends of Doom

The Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis

It’s been popular in the past couple of decades to attack The Chronicles of Narnia for its excessive use of Christian messaging.  This is jus one unfortunate side effect of a culture that politicizes everything in the most infantile of ways, meaning that whatever is on the “wrong” side of the political divide must be attacked.  Cue the Marching Morons obeying the dictates of their political-dogma-spewing overlords.

Even though I’m an atheist and should have been shocked (shocked, I tell you!!) at anything which hints at preaching, I decided to read the books anyway.  Why?  Various reasons.  First off, I was lucky enough to have been a kid in a time when good books were just good books and not symbols of protest, so all the later mud-slinging really made no impression on me.  Secondly, generations of children have loved these, and I thought it would be nice to see what all the fuss was about.

Thirdly, I remembered having read, at least partially, one or two of the books when I was a little too young to appreciate them, and wanted to complete that reading.

Most importantly, perhaps, I hate having important gaps in my reading.  By important, I mean books that have stood the test of time, not books that are faddish today – I won’t be running to buy any recent Hugo-award winners unless they are still beloved in twenty years’ time.  But Narnia?  Yes, a must read for anyone who with the maturity to leave political silliness aside.

So… How did they hold up?

In order to answer that question, I need to talk about the order in which the Narnia series was composed vs. the order in which it was meant to be read.  The first four books written (The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Silver Chair) follow the adventures of two brothers and two sisters who initially discover the land of Narnia and have adventures there.  These are the solid core of the series and each is enjoyable and beautiful.

Is there Christian messaging in this core?  Yes, there is, but it’s pretty light, and any intelligent child, anywhere on the political / faith spectrum, will be the better for being exposed to it and getting to think about things.  Plus, they’ll enjoy these books enormously.

Then came The Horse and his Boy, which, in reading order, slots between Wardrobe and Caspian.  This one is a good little adventure as well, although it doesn’t really do much for the central story except to set up the final book.

The last two books to be written were where C.S. Lewis made his big mistake.  The Magician’s Nephew was written to be the first in the series in reading order, and The Last Battle, as its name indicates, was meant to close the series out.

These are the only ones that fall flat, for several reasons, but mostly because Lewis was attempting to make his message (and yes, it is a very traditional Christian message) obvious to everyone.  They are just there, in fact, for that reason, and the adventures are relegated to a secondary role–the books suffer for it.

Are these two unreadable?  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  They just aren’t up to the spectacularly high level of the others.

I would recommend that anyone interested in this series read the first four (or five if you can’t get enough of it) books as written and ignore the rest.  And I recommend it to anyone at all.  If an atheist can enjoy it, so can you.

Just stay away from the last two books written.  They… don’t help.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is a novelist and short story writer whose fantasy novel The Malakiad is not a Christian novel. In fact, it offends every religion from ancient Greece onwards, and it offends atheists and the politically correct, as well.  In fact, if you are not offended by it, Gustavo will be extremely upset.  You can check it out here (ebook) and here (paperback).

Continuing Brian Jacques

The Legend of Luke - Brian Jacques

Though he died recently, Brian Jacques’ books continue to bring pleasure to millions of youngsters (and not-so-youngsters).  I picked the first of these up while perusing a bookstore in Punta del Este, Uruguay as a teenager, and have since been entertained by them at every turn.

Jacques is a writer in the old style.  His children’s books in include the death of cute, furry and beloved characters, so you never know who will come out of it alive.

The latest one I’ve read is part of his Redwall series titled The Legend of Luke.  This is a high-seas swashbuckler, with evil pirates, noble adventurers and tremendous sacrifice which does exactly what I’ve grown to expect from Jacques.  Namely, that is to transport you to a bucolic world of pastoral innocence that, for reasons known only to the bad guys, it terrorized by one scourge or another.

For the time it takes you to read this, you are taken to a land where good and evil are clear cut and food is the most important thing in the universe (anyone who’s read Jacques will know what I mean).

This one follows young Martin the Warrior as he sets out to find out the truth about his father, the great Luke.  What he discovers is both inspiring and poignant, but the knowledge isn’t quite as important as the friends he makes along the way.

It’s another good one.

 

Gustavo Bondoni’s own foray into fantasy novelling doesn’t contain talking rabbits, but it does have a pink sea serpent and a mummified evil penguin, which he insists is even better… you can check it out here (paperback / Kindle).

The First Love Never Dies Away Completely

When it comes to reading, the writers most responsible for my passion are probably Enid Blyton and the composite figure who went by the name of Franklin W. Dixon.  As a seven- to nine-year-old living in Zürich, a place where it got dark at a ridiculously early hour in winter, I would voraciously devour any age-appropriate mystery books in the school library – see number 5 on this list.

Interestingly enough, I also had my first brush with science fiction and fantasy literature by reading The White Mountains… but it didn’t seem to have stuck.

Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

I owe my love of the SFF genre, and my writing career, to someone unexpected: Robert Asprin.  He was quite big in the 1980s, and one day, randomly waiting for my mother to finish buying stuff at a Kroger at age ten or eleven, I picked up Another Fine Myth from the rack, probably because I liked the cover of the Ace paperback.

I was hooked.

Forever.

Yes, this isn’t mainstream fantasy.  It’s the equivalent of H2G2 for fantasy.  But, they are still the benchmark for laugh out loud comedy in the genre.  Just as the H2G2 books haven’t been surpassed by anyone for sheer comedy in SF, these are still the benchmark for fantasy (I’m also a huge Discworld fan, but those usually put the story before the comedy and just feel a bit less jokey to me).

Such is the power of those early Asprin books that I am still reading them today.  Asprin died in 2008, the year Myth-Fortunes (the latest one I’ve read) was published, so I’m assuming that this collaboration with Jody-Lynn Nye was the last he participated in.

Myth Fortunes by Robert Asprin and Jody Lynn Nye

To be completely honest, the final few books in the series have lost a little of Asprin’s original silliness; I suppose dilution is unavoidable when working with a collaborator.  On the plus side, without Nye, one can never be certain that the new myth books would have been written t all.  Asprin certainly had a long period when he wasn’t writing any more of them.

I’m just thankful we have the new Myths at all.  The cast of characters certainly doesn’t miss out by being less comedic, and the storyline–probably due to Nye’s influence–has taken some very interesting and unexpected turns.

I rate the early ones better, of course, but that might be just because Asprin had a blank canvas to work from, and he could put his characters in whatever situation he felt like without going against a firmly established vein.  The structure of the later books, and fully rounded characters puts a few constraints on doing that in the current iterations.

That doesn’t mean the new ones are bad; they aren’t.  In fact, they’re very good.  And Myth-Fortunes is a solid effort that appears to put many of the story arcs on new tracks… so now I need to read the next one.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is a short story writer and novelist.  His comic fantasy book The Malakiad isn’t as well known as Asprin’s, but he thinks it’s just as good (and he loves the cover).  Check out the print version here, and the Kindle ebook over here.

Like George R. R. Martin but with Rabbits

Yet another fantasy series gets discussed today, and yet another series that I’ve been bringing along since early adolescence.

As an avid reader of science fiction and fantasy in English living in Buenos Aires as a teen, there wasn’t always as much variety as you might expect from a typical bookstore in the US.  There were usually a few books in English, and, if one was lucky, one or two would be genre books.

That situation was exacerbated when on summer holiday in Uruguay. Punta del Este in the early nineties was the place to be in you liked electronic music or enjoyed rubbing shoulders with the highest element of the upper crust, but it wasn’t exactly a bibliophile’s paradise.  I guess no place on Earth is perfect.

But there was a bookstore, and over the years I bought a number of books there that I might not have purchased if there had been a better selection.  Sometimes they were real turkeys (Spinrad’s Russian Spring comes to mind), and sometimes they were the beginning of a lifelong read (it was here that I first encountered the Deverry series).

Marlfox by Brian Jacques

The last genre book sitting on the shelf that summer was a strange item which had a mouse with a sword on its cover: Brian Jacques Mossflower.  I had serious misgivings about this thing… it wasn’t really the kind of book I would normally have approached.  Despite being about 400 pages long, it seemed more like something for kids than for a teen who didn’t know enough about the world to understand that he wasn’t cool and worldly.

So I read it and… It wasn’t half bad.  In fact, I found it spectacularly refreshing.  You see, Jacques, liberated by the fact that his characters were assorted rodents and other small mammals, massacred more of his dramatis personae than anyone I had been exposed to at the time.  Only recently did George R. R. Martin dare to do it at the same scale with human characters.

Well, maybe not at the same scale.  Martin is in a league of his own regarding character killing (although he seems to have calmed down remarkably in recent books) but Jacques is by no means sugar coated.  While you could pretty much bet that the young mouse who found an ancient sword somewhere was going to survive and thrive, some of the other good guys were usually toast.  And Jacques also took time to build up the motivations and personalities of the bad guys so that, when they inevitably perished in the epic bloodbath that ends each book, one would feel for them.

Since then, this series has been on the changeup / back burner list.  I buy the next installment every once in a while and end up reading one of these every couple of years or so.  I’ve gotten as far as Marlfox, which is pretty much par for the course: a fun read which doesn’t necessarily break any new ground, but which entertains with action and suspense.  Perfect for when you’ve been reading the classics and need a break.

Also, nice wholesome old-school violence for those who think their pre-teens and young teens are getting a little obsessed with vampire sex.  Young readers need balance, after all.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine writer whose latest novel is a fantasy romp set in ancient Greece entitled The Malakiad.

Action Packed Medieval Fantasy

There are a lot of fantasy series out there, and I seem to be reading each and every single one of them.  Each has something that makes them attractive – my writeups tend to focus on what that is, and I’ve enjoyed each in its own way.

Perhaps the nicest thing about a series is that sense of being reunited with old friends when you crack a new book open.  It’s a comfortable feeling, perfect for readers who don’t always want to be challenged, and who enjoy stories that take a loooong while to tell.

At the Gates of Darkness by Raymond E. Feist

Of course, some of these series demand more from the reader, while some give more pure entertainment and joy.  Topping the list for the second quality is Raymond E. Feist’s long-running Riftwar series.

I started reading these books when I was about fourteen years old… and have loved them ever since.  They are among the few thick books that require almost no effort from the reader.  They grab you by the arm and take you for a ride.   Time flies by almost imperceptibly, and so do the books themselves.

Critics, of course, will say that the reason for this is twofold.  First, that I am an uncritical reader and, secondly, that Feist is not a good writer.

They are wrong, as critics usually are, especially postmodern critics, on both counts.  I am a very discerning reader who reads widely across a number of genres (just flip through the posts on this site for random examples).  The problem is that I define a good book as one that does what it sets out to do and does it well.  Critics define it as a book that meets their particular literary / political / sociological pet peeve.  This is why critics are made fun of.

The other place they are wrong is in calling Feist a bad writer for his smooth, fast-paced, uncluttered, prose.  Every time I read a critic bashing a writer for transparency, I always suspect that this is a critic who tried to write clearly and failed.  This wouldn’t surprise me in the least.  As a writer, I have nothing but respect for my peers who can drag you along almost against your will.  The men and women who cause you to finish a book before you realize it are masters of the craft–even if their chosen milieu is more popular fiction than high literary expression.

So, if you’d like a good ride, you can do much worse than to pick up a Feist volume (my advice–start with Magician.  The one pictured above just happens to be the most recent one I’ve read).  And then turn off your inner critic and enjoy the journey.

 

Gustavo Bondoni also writes fantasy.  His book The Malakiad was published in 2018.  It’s both funny and poignant.  OK.  It’s not poignant, but it is funny as hell, as befits a book whose main character is called Kopulus.

 

 

The Strange Case of David Eddings

The Younger Gods by David and Leigh Eddings

I recently finished reading The Younger Gods, the final book in David Eddings‘ final series (he died in 2009).

I’d really hate for my first post about David Eddings to be a review of The Younger Gods or, for that matter, of any of the books in his Dreamers series.  He deserves better than that–I’ve spent many hours reading excellent books by Eddings in other series.  So let’s celebrate the man’s career first and maybe speak of what the hell happened later.

Like a lot of authors, Eddings began with a couple of standalone novels (one good, one absolutely awful) before finding his niche in the heroic fantasy genre where his slightly offbeat but excellent series, The Belgariad, The Malloreon, The Elenium and The Tamuli were staples of the eighties and nineties.  These series have fun plots, characters with attitude and entertaining villains.

They’re classic Euro-centric fantasy tropes where the effort is expended in making them fun instead of going for the forced diversity and defying of expectations that runs so many more modern works in the genre.  They are fun, and critics, especially 21st century critics will hate them.  These are excellent books that do what they set out to do.  Recommended.  Eddings, on the strentgh of these four series, deserves all the success he had.

So far so good.  But then something strange happened.

At about the same time as he began sharing the writing credit for the books with his wife Leigh, Eddings work began to get… strange.

Instead of writing a new series, or continuations of the same series, Mr and Mrs Eddings began to write the same books from a slightly different point of view. The tone also changed, from normal prose interspersed with a kind of smart-alecky, cynical tone with some sticky-sweet characters thrown in for spice like raisins in a strudel, it turned into a cutesy saccharine form of utter idiocy which I would normally associate more with elderly women in pink sweatsuits than with anything pretending to be a heroic fantasy.  I won’t even try to speculate as to what caused this, as I have no data other than the fact that it began to occur when credit was shared, but according to Eddings, he’d always collaborated with his wife, so that probably means nothing.

But why they thought we’d like to read the entire story of the Belgariad and the Malloreon again, written from the POV of two different characters who both clearly share the exact same personality (moronic and cutesy-wootsie) is a mystery to me but this is what happened in Polgara the Sorceress and Belgarath the Sorcerer.

Worse as to come.  Some genius somewhere decided to combine the cutesy style with the repetition in a new series, and thus was born The Dreamers.  Now, if you can stomach the constant use of the words “dear one” or the phrase “now give me a hug”, the first book isn’t a complete loss.  Eddings could still write an interesting plot.  But it goes downhill from there.  The second book spends an eternity retelling the first, and then the plot is pretty much the exact same thing with the details slightly changed.  Ditto books three and four.  And since the bad guys are set against both the good guys and the freaking gods, there is never much doubt about the final outcome.

What happened?  Was it Leigh?  A set of seriously misguided editors at Del Rey and Warner Books?  Sheer senility?  Or was Eddings making subtle fun of us and trying to see just how idiotic readers could be?  I suppose we’ll never know.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.  If you ignore any of the later books, and concentrate on the four good series, you’ll have a bunch of good reading to thank me for.

But if the word “Leigh” appears anywhere on the cover, run like the devil himself is after you…

 

Gustavo Bondoni’s latest book is a work of fantasy called The Malakiad.  It isn’t cutesy in the least (quite the opposite, in fact; it pokes fun at absolutely everything).  If enough of you buy it, he may be able to convince the publisher to turn it into the first of a series.